


Best Laid Plans

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 04:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Killing him with kindness,” Raf says.“I resent your sarcasm,” Jared says. “Anyway, that was a practice run.”“You just told him he had a small dick,” Raf says.





	Best Laid Plans

Jared starts to second-guess his plan basically the minute he’s home.

Wolfing down dinner, he’s half thinking about what would piss Marcus off the most, half thinking that he doesn’t have it in him to fake admiration or fondness for someone who doesn’t deserve it. More the fondness than the admiration. Marcus is a douchebag, that’s become manifestly obvious, but it’s not easy to separate that from the pleasure, sometimes awe, Jared’s felt watching him do his thing on the ice for the Flames. 

It’d be easier if he was just some douche with an inflated ego. Well, he still _is_ , but the annoying thing is that he’s maybe almost as good as he thinks he is. Jared’s not going to lie to himself: he’s better than Jared’s ever going to be, and they both know it.

Admiration won’t piss Marcus off, Jared decides. Marcus, so used to fawning and accolades, so annoyed whenever Jared doesn’t swoon at his talent, might just accept praise as his due. That would be the worst possible result.

So fondness then, which is more difficult. Jared isn’t good at pretending to like people he doesn’t. He’s good at polite — Marcus obviously excepted, though Jared hasn’t exactly been trying to be — he’s good at civil, but faking that he likes someone he doesn’t? That he’s never done. He honestly has no idea where to even start. 

Still, he’s said he’s going to do it, so he’s going to do it. If it works out then within a few days Marcus will fuck off and leave him alone, and things will be simpler. Marcus will stop wasting his time, Jared will be able to devote his full attention to the actual reason he’s there, which is to get better and hopefully get drafted next summer, and he’ll be able to quit half-obsessively spending his off time trying to figure out how to get Marcus off his back. It’ll work. It has to. Jared isn’t really known for his patience, and at this rate, if he doesn’t get Marcus to fuck off, _he’ll_ be the one making headlines for throwing a punch, regardless of the fact he’s never thrown one in his life, on or off the ice.

He heard about a dude in Juniors who broke half the bones in his hand in a fight. Slated to go first round, but he never played again. Jared _probably_ wouldn’t break his hand, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

It’ll work.

*  
The next morning Jared wakes up to a text from Raf already waiting for him. 

_Can you come to camp early?_

_How early?_ Jared texts back, and the answer ends up being early enough that breakfast consists of cramming two pieces of toast in the toaster, anxiously watching them before giving up and popping it while they’re still closer to bread than toast, and slathering them with peanut butter before heading out the door. 

If this isn’t important, Jared thinks, toast between his teeth, Raf is officially downgraded to…well, still the best dude at camp. Damnit.

Raf’s already waiting for him when he gets there, which is weird considering he’s supposed to get bussed in with a whole bunch of dudes, and it’s deserted.

“Walked it,” Raf says, when Jared gives him a questioning look.

“That’s what, forty-five minutes?” Jared asks. “An hour?”

Raf shrugs. “Woke up early,” he says. “And I wanted to talk to you before camp started.”

He looks very serious. Intent, almost, his eyes on Jared’s face. And he hasn’t mentioned a girl once since Jared’s met him, which is straight up weird in comparison to probably everyone else in camp, who talk over each other bragging about their conquests and making shit up.

“I really don’t date hockey players,” Jared says nervously. “Let alone players who live hours away. Like even ones as nice as—”

Raf laughs just as nervously, and Jared’s stomach drops. “I have a girlfriend,” he says.

“Oh,” Jared says, somewhere between relieved and embarrassed. More relieved than embarrassed, though. “Really?”

Raf frowns. “Is it that hard to believe?” he asks.

“No!” Jared says. “You are what the kids call a catch.”

“The kids?” Raf asks.

“This kid right here,” Jared says. “You’re a total catch. Even if you’re a hockey player.”

Raf smiles kind of shyly. Whoever his girlfriend is, she lucked out. 

“Okay, so if you aren’t here to announce your undying love, what’s up?” Jared asks.

“I’ve known you for a week,” Raf says. “I don’t think it’d be undying love.”

“You underestimate my appeal,” Jared says. 

Raf snorts, then looks serious again. “Don’t do the plan.”

“What plan?” Jared asks.

“You know what plan,” Raf says.

Jared may have a vague idea of what plan he is speaking of. It was, after all, a stroke of genius.

“Look,” Jared says. “I know exactly what type this guy is. There’s nothing that’s going to scare the shit out of him more than me being friendly.”

Raf doesn’t look convinced, but that’s fine. Jared will prove it.

“Did I mention I think this is a bad idea?” Raf asks.

“You did,” Jared confirms. “Yesterday. And today now too.”

“Okay,” Raf says. “Jared?”

“Yup?” Jared says.

“This is a really bad idea,” Raf says. “I don’t want you to get kicked out of camp. And my parents will _kill_ me if I get kicked out.”

“We won’t get kicked out of camp,” Jared says, and when Raf chews his lip, looking doubtful, “I promise if they threaten to kick you out of camp I’ll tell them you had nothing to do with it.”

“I mean,” Raf says. “I don’t.”

“See?” Jared says. “Nothing to be worried about.”

“Okay,” Raf says. He doesn’t sound all that reassured, but he doesn’t argue, and they companionably sit shoulder to shoulder on the bench outside looking at their respective phones, because they can’t get inside for another twenty minutes. It’s hot, but in that early morning way, where it’s almost pleasant but you know by noon the heat is going to make you want to curl up in a ball in front of A/C. 

One minute before the place opens, Marcus pulls in the parking lot in possibly the most ridiculous fucking car in the entire world. It’s a convertible, for one, which makes zero sense for Calgary except for maybe three months of the year, and even less sense considering he’s from Vancouver, where every time you blink it starts to drizzle.

It’s also red, which is a pretty obvious ‘I have zero creativity and want to be noticed’ colour. Jared doesn’t know cars that well, but he bets it cost more than both his parents’ cars combined. They might even be able to throw a third car in. And yeah, Marcus’ ELC was the highest possible, and that’s not even including the performance bonuses he’s undoubtedly earned, but being a millionaire is not an excuse for that thing. If someone told Jared to imagine a mid-life crisis car this exact car is what he would have imagined. Marcus isn’t even old enough for a _quarter_ life crisis.

“Wow,” Raf says.

“Please tell me that’s a disgusted wow and not an impressed wow,” Jared says. “Lie to me if you have to.”

“That car probably cost more than both my parents make in a year,” Raf says, which is not only right on Jared’s wavelength, but also said with disgust. Jared is seriously never letting this dude go. “And who the hell buys a convertible when they live in Alberta?”

“I love you, dude,” Jared says.

“I don’t date hockey players,” Raf says, then grins, pleased looking, when Jared bursts out laughing.

“That’s not even true,” he says, when Jared quits. “My girlfriend plays D.”

“Hockey players are a bad idea,” Jared says.

Raf gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re telling _me_ about bad ideas?”

“Hey,” Jared says. “My idea’s going to work.”

Marcus walks up to them. Jared tries to think of something super nice to say. Honestly, even ‘hey dude’ or ‘good morning’ would probably be enough to unsettle him, but Jared wants to show Raf exactly how much he can freak Marcus out.

“Nice, eh?” Marcus says, looking back at his car, face smug as fuck. It’s actively insufferable. “Got it for—”

“Wow,” Jared interrupts. “You must have a really small dick.”

Shit. Affection plan is not off to a good start. He can’t even walk it back right now. He’s pretty sure you can’t twist ‘you must have a really small dick’ into something complimentary.

Marcus stalks past them both, door slamming behind him.

“Killing him with kindness,” Raf says.

“I resent your sarcasm,” Jared says. “Anyway, that was a practice run.”

“You just told him he had a small dick,” Raf says. It sounds really bad when Raf says it. It probably sounded really bad when Jared said it too, though.

“Well, obviously I need more practice,” Jared says.

*

Jared spends more time thinking about what he’s going to say than he does paying attention that morning. Apologising seems weak, not just in the way it’d make him look, but because he’s never been good at apologising for things he’s not sorry for, and he probably isn’t going to start being good now. It’d just ring hollow, and Marcus would assume Raf asked him to, or that maybe someone on the staff had overheard. 

He can’t just jump into being nice, because Marcus doesn’t seem like the most perceptive dude, to put it mildly, but even he would probably be thrown off by Jared doing a one-eighty from insulting his dick to playing nice. You don’t exactly need to be a genius to be suspicious of that.

Thankfully, Marcus gives him the time to think through it, spends the morning helping other dudes out like an actually functional member of staff. He doesn’t come anywhere near Jared, which should probably make him happy, a sign that maybe being a dick finally drove him off, even if that wasn’t the plan, but they’ve done this song and dance before. He’ll come back around. He finally approaches Jared and Raf after lunch, and Jared’s practically relieved. It’d have been stupid to spend all morning thinking of what to say to Marcus is Marcus is going to avoid him. Well, it’s stupid anyway, but Jared doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Never has.

“Hey,” Jared says. He’s decided that seems like the safest start. Not exactly friendly, but friendlier than ‘fuck off’. Best to ease Marcus into it. “What’s up?”

Jared can feel Raf staring a hole into the side of his head.

“Look,” Marcus says. “I know you think you’re good, but I can seriously help your backhand.”

Let him do it, Jared thinks. He’ll probably keel over in surprise.

“We’re doing a passing drill,” Jared says instead. “My backhand isn’t really relevant.”

Marcus shrugs. “You can take a couple minutes for this.”

“I doubt Evanson would like that,” Jared says. Raf’s staring at him some more. Look, he’s trying, okay? It just doesn’t come naturally. He hasn’t told Marcus he has a small dick again, so he’s counting this as so far so good.

“Evanson doesn’t care,” Marcus says. Evanson is exactly the kind of guy who would care deeply if they’re not abiding by his strict schedule, and Jared has no idea how Marcus could miss that. He’s either lying, or he’s a complete idiot. “Come on.”

He skates a stride over then, getting right into Jared’s space, and Jared reflexively skates backward. Affection plan doesn’t include touching. Touching happens and Jared’s going to end up elbowing him or something. Or punching, and he really doesn’t want to break his hand and end his hockey career because Marcus gets under his skin.

“Raf showed me something,” Jared says. “I think I’m fine now.”

“Well no offence to Rafael,” Marcus says, with irritating emphasis to Raf’s name, and an even more irritating tone like Raf isn’t standing right fucking there. “But I have a lot more experience than him.”

“Dude, you’re like maybe four years older than us,” Jared snaps, defensive on Raf’s behalf.

“NHL,” Marcus says, like he’s throwing down a gauntlet. Admittedly, NHL is a whole other level, but Jared knows Raf’s going to get there. Thinks he will too. They haven’t reached it yet because of age, not inability.

“Yeah, and how many arrests?” Jared asks. “You’re not exactly a sterling role model. I’ll stick with Raf.”

Marcus, predictably, fucks off, looking pissed again.

Jared sighs.

“Are you even trying?” Raf asks.

“Pathetically, I actually am,” Jared says.

“You’re really bad at it,” Raf says.

“I know,” Jared says.

*

Jared has another plan. Or, same plan, different phase, he guesses. He spends the afternoon practicing it in his head, and Raf has to get his attention at least three times, but doesn’t call him out on being a space cadet.

Jared doesn’t tell Raf about it, because he doesn’t think Raf will approve. Or Raf will tell him it’s going to get his ass beat. And it might, but if someone else tells him that, he’s probably going to chicken out.

He almost does, rethinking his idea at least three times while he’s waiting for Marcus to come out after camp, pacing in front of the door and pretending to look at his phone. This is stupid. It’s one thing to antagonise Marcus in front of dozens of witnesses, it’s a whole other thing to do it alone. Not that Jared’s planning on antagonising him, just — whatever, it’s stupid anyway. Marcus punched that Oilers fan in front of more people than there are in camp. Apparently it was his teammates who restrained him, teammates who picked the Oilers fan up, dusted him off, apologised.

Marcus looks upset when he gets out. Jared doesn’t know if Evanson yelled at him again, or what. Maybe his agent did. Maybe Jared’s actually gotten under his skin.

 _Ego much?_ Jared remembers Debono asking, and he was right. He’s never exactly lacked self-confidence, but it’s one thing to be self-confident and a whole other thing to think he can singlehandedly ruin Marcus’ day.

“Hey,” Jared says, as Marcus is about to pass right by him. Marcus didn’t even notice he was there. Ego much indeed.

Marcus stops up. “Hey,” he says after a second, sounding kind of guarded.

“Look,” Jared says. He had this rehearsed, but he forgets everything when Marcus raises his eyebrows, so effortlessly cocky it’s infuriating. Jared pushes through it. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared makes himself say. It almost comes out believable. “I’ve been a dick,” he adds, and that one he does better on, because it isn’t a lie, and he knows it.

Marcus shrugs a little. “S’cool,” he says.

“Seriously?” Jared asks. “That easy?”

Marcus shrugs again. “I get it, dude,” he says. “Big shot showing up or whatever, cramping your style.”

Who the fuck calls himself a big shot? Marcus, apparently.

“Yeah,” Jared says, because that’s better than saying what he’s thinking. “I guess.”

“I’m just trying to help though,” Marcus says. “Seriously.”

“Okay,” Jared says, still completely without a game plan. He expected Marcus to kick up some shit, maybe turn this into a fight, not to be — whatever he’s being like. It’s uncomfortable.

“Okay,” he says again, mouth on auto-pilot. It seems to be a lot around Marcus, though usually he actually has something to say. Not right now though, apparently.

“Have a good night, Matheson,” Marcus says. He thumps Jared’s shoulder twice with a closed fist before Jared can move away, walks over to his car. He looks back once he reaches it, shooting Jared a slightly awkward smile, and Jared doesn’t know why, but he suddenly feels guilty.


End file.
